She spoke to no one but nodded to a few acquaintances. She wouldn’t look at her mother, forcing Lady Royston to say, on the journey home; “Really Lucy, you must make an effort. We cannot be seen to be at odds, especially in public.”
Lucy turned a bland countenance to her parent. “Do you think they noticed?”
“I should think those who were watching noticed enough to keep them in gossip for the next fortnight.” returned her mother tartly.
“Good, I want them to notice,” Lucy returned, and looked out of the window instead.
If the landau had moved a little slower she would have been tempted to leap out, but it would do no good. They could easily catch her again, and she wouldn’t show them such desperation. All the time she remembered what Mr. Chumleigh had said to her and repeated in her mind, “They can’t force me, they can’t force me.”
After a light luncheon and a couple of hours in her room they went to the other St. George’s Chapel, on Hanover Square, one of the favourite churches of the fashionable world. Lucy didn’t relent, but refused to look at or talk to her mother while they were there. The high pews prevented too much spying, but plenty of people saw them. Some seemed to want to talk, but Lucy was whisked past them.
She took herself back upstairs, only coming down for dinner, and going up again afterwards. Then she had an idea.
Sitting at the small table by the window, he wrote two letters by the soft light of a day coming to a close. One was to Lord Wenlock, and the other to Mrs. Carmichael. They were nearly identical, and very short.
“Dear Mrs. Carmichael.
I have enjoyed being with you more than I can say the past few weeks. I was taken from you by force. I don’t know if your silence means Janet has told you something, or if you have decided to let me go back to my mother, but they want to marry me to Sir Geoffrey Sanders on Tuesday, and I don’t wish for the match. Please come and fetch me, I don’t want to stay here.”
She sat at the window for some time after, biting her pen. She was fairly sure Janet had something to do with this. The girl had shown no desire to help her, there was no attempt to run back to the house for help, or to shout. And she had said something - what was it? - about it being right for Lucy to go home. Had someone got to her, or had she been motivated by her jealousy when she discovered Philip meant to marry Lucy? Lucy very much wanted to find out.
When the maid came to light the fire she stopped her before she left. “Will you take these for me?” she asked.
“My lady?”
“Both addresses are in London, so perhaps one of the footmen could take them round.” She tried to stay casual, as though these were just thank you letters or something else equally inconsequential. The maid curtseyed, said, “Yes my lady,” and took the notes, together with the sovereign Lucy took out of her nearly empty purse for her.
When she came up to bed both notes lay on her pillow. They had been opened.
***
Realising she had to discover a few things for herself, the next day Lucy deigned to join in with family life, such as it was. She went downstairs to breakfast and spoke civilly to her mother, if not with any fondness. “Come, that’s better.” her mother encouraged her. “I thought you were irredeemably lost.”
She was, had Lady Royston but known it. After breakfast, Lucy found enough to occupy her for several hours, sewing and reading, but she came down to the drawing room before dinner. She wished she hadn’t chosen quite such a becoming gown, because Sir Geoffrey was there as well as her mother and her aunt. He took her hand, kissed it and complimented her, as though the last weeks had never happened. “You look charming, my dear.”
She played the game for now, and gave him a small smile. “Thank you.” Her gown was in pink, with an overdress of white gauze. Her complexion was pale enough for pink to be one of the colours that suited her best. She tended to stay away from whites and creams.
“One thing puzzles me,” she said to him. He led her to a sofa and this time she allowed him to sit next to her. “How did you find me?”
He smiled. “It seemed someone in that house had your welfare at heart. She came to me the day before I came for you, told me where you were.”
“Who?”
“That would be breaking a confidence, my dear.”
Janet, she was sure of it. “What else did she say?”
“That you had been there since you left home, so your reputation was unblemished. That had concerned your mama and I very much, you know.” His voice was gentle, understanding. Lucy moved her shoulder muscles slightly and felt the healed wounds there stiffen and pull against her skin. “Why?” she demanded. “My reputation would be ruined if what happened in this house got about.”
“Lucy.” her mother exclaimed. “It was done with my sanction, and is not to be questioned.”
“It wasn‘t your body, mother,” she said in a mild tone. “You didn’t sleep on your stomach for a week.”
“Lucy.”
But she was sorry she’d said it when she saw the gleam in Sir Geoffrey’s eye. If she had doubted what Philip’s had said, that Sir Geoffrey took some kind of pleasure from these actions, she doubted it no longer. She couldn’t imagine why or how, but she couldn’t deny the evidence she had seen with her own eyes. He enjoyed vulnerability, and if she had married him she had no doubt her married life would have been miserable indeed.
Dinner was announced and they went in. Even though they were only four, the table was fully set and there were three elegant courses. Lucy thought of the waste, something which had never occurred to her before.
They ate in silence for the most part. Servants stood in the room, and the only conversation was general. Lady Royston had never been good at small talk, expecting to be supplied with gossip rather than dispense it, and her sister followed her taciturn lead. Lucy was not disposed to be polite, listening, as she was all the time now, for the doorbell. She hadn’t given up on being rescued, though the hope was fading. She had to admit to the possibility that she would have to face this on her own. It daunted her, but she was determined. Very well then, she would.
After dinner, Lady Royston led the way into the drawing room, where tea was served.
“You seem more reconciled,” she said, after her first sip. She nodded to the maid, who left the room. “I’m not going to marry him,” said Lucy calmly. She picked up her own cup.
Her mother frowned. “Why are you so set against it? His financial troubles are only temporary.”
“Putting that aside for the moment,” Lucy said, “Has aunt Honoria told you what he did to me?”
Her mother made a “tcha.” sound of exasperation. “You don’t have to put up with that for long. You can cope with it for a couple of times, surely.”
Lucy couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “He beat me, Mother.”
“Tell him if he does that again you will lock your bedroom door.”
“As if that would keep him out.” she said scornfully. Then she paused to think, and finally said; “Is that what you did, Mother?” It was something she had always wondered, but never dared to ask before. Why was she the only child?
Her mother put down her cup and looked at her daughter gravely. “Yes,” she said. “It’s a disgusting thing to do. You would have thought the good Lord would have devised a more civilised method of making children. But I let Royston into my bed for the time it took to make you, and then - not.”
Lucy caught her breath at the casual cruelty. “Why?” she demanded. “Did he beat you?” Surely not, she thought. She had loved her father, a man of infinite kindness and patience.
Lady Royston shook her head. “No. I couldn’t take to it, that is all. And I prefer privacy in the bedroom.”
Lucy stared, shocked. She looked at her aunt sitting quietly with her tea, and then back at her mother. She had known love now, and she couldn’t imagine doing without it again. Perhaps what her mother called ‘the act’ was different when the participants merely liked each ot
her, and weren’t in love. But she knew people who engaged in the activity when they weren’t in love; there must be something pleasurable about it for them to do that.
“So after I was born…”
“He kept to his own room,” she replied. “I didn’t welcome him in mine.”
“Oh poor Papa.”
Her mother looked at her curiously. “I don’t think he suffered. He can find that anywhere, and I’m sure he did.”
“Don’t you care?” she asked, still trying to come to terms with what she had been told. She had assumed that her mother had been damaged in some way at her birth, or she simply hadn’t conceived again, not that all conjugal relations had completely ceased.
“That part of his life was entirely his own, after you were born,” she said.
“And you wouldn’t have done it even to spite the Moore brothers?” she asked, knowing how much her mother had disliked Bernard and Philip.
Lady Royston’s face took on a look of distaste, her mouth curling slightly. “No, not even for them. I couldn’t bring myself to do it.” She picked up her teacup and took another sip. “Men are simple creatures. You merely have to learn how to manage them.”
“So what do I do about the beatings?” she asked, a hard cynical note in her voice.
“Lock your bedroom door.”
Lucy could hardly believe her mother’s experience was so far different to her own that Lady Royston couldn’t understand how a man like Sir Geoffrey thought and behaved. A locked door wouldn’t stop him, or only temporarily, and might enrage him enough to make him kill her when she emerged, or he broke through the door.
She couldn’t say anything more because the man in question came in. He looked for Lucy and pulled up a chair to sit beside her. Lady Royston poured him some tea and handed it to him with a smile. Lucy drew her hand out of his reach, folding it with the other one tightly on her lap.
His air of satisfaction told her he was enjoying her discomfiture, but she couldn’t prevent herself from shrinking from his touch. She never wanted him to touch her again, and she was determined about tomorrow.
While Lady Royston and Sir Geoffrey calmly discussed some of the gossip of the day, Lucy and her Aunt Honoria sat silently gazing into the distance, neither attempting to take part. Lucy knew it was the only thing her aunt could do. Her courage wouldn’t take her any further.
Eventually, she could stand it no more. It couldn’t have been more than half past nine when she stood up and bowed slightly to her mother. “I’m tired. I hope you will excuse me,” she said.
Her mother smiled regally. “Of course my dear. Sleep well, you have a big day tomorrow.”
Lucy turned and looked at her tormentor. “I will not marry you,” she said. “I’ll refuse you at the altar. I’ll cause a scene people will talk about for years.”
“We shall see,” he said and rising, tried to take her hand, but she wouldn’t let him. She left the room quickly and went upstairs.
When the door to her bedroom opened, she turned quickly, grasping the sword she had found in the umbrella stand in the hall. An old dress sword, not much use, but better than nothing. She wished she knew where her father had kept his pistols, but she hadn’t seen them for a long time now. She was afraid her mother would allow Sir Geoffrey up here again, but this time she was ready for him. She would kill him first.
It was Curtis, bearing a tray on which reposed a cup and a plate. The cup steamed invitingly; tea, or chocolate. When Curtis put the tray down on the bedside table Lucy could see it was chocolate. The smell began to ooze through the room. “Lock the door,” Lucy said curtly.
Curtis did as she was told, and only then did Lucy’s grip on the sword slacken. As though she had seen nothing amiss, Curtis came over to the dressing table and with nimble hands, attended to her mistress. One of the skills of a good abigail was the ability to get her out of her things quickly as well as into them becomingly, and Curtis was a very good abigail.
Lucy was soon arrayed in her night gown, and her hair brushed out, braided and confined under a pretty lace cap.
Curtis moved over to the bed and drew back the sheets. Lucy picked up the book she had been reading and climbed between them. She had considered running away tonight, and she was still considering it. Once she was back at the Carmichael’s she wouldn’t go out again until Philip came back from Norfolk. But she wouldn’t tell Curtis, whose loyalty she was beginning to suspect.
She picked up the chocolate and sipped, turning the pages of the book, then looked up because Curtis stood in the middle of the room looking at her, obviously with something to say.
“Sir Geoffrey told me to inform you that he would leave Greene outside your door all night, my lady,” she informed her.
Lucy sighed. It might still be possible, but she was glad she knew that before she tried to escape. “Very well,” she said coldly, and Curtis left the room.
Lucy read her book and sipped her drink, but didn’t eat any of the little cakes sent up for her. Despite her good intentions, she found herself sliding into sleep. “Just for a little while,” she promised herself. “Just until the house is quiet.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Good morning, my lady,” Curtis said brightly.
Lucy groggily opened her eyes and looked uncomprehendingly at the bright sunlight streaming through the window. Having drawn back the drapes and undone the shutters, Curtis turned back to her mistress. Her face took on a look of concern when she looked at Lucy. “Do you feel well, my lady?”
“No,” Lucy groaned. She felt as though she had been drinking heavily the night before, just as she had after all that champagne with the Pulteneys. Her mouth felt as though it was filled with gravel and her head hurt abominably. “Can you find me something for this headache?”
Curtis left the room and returned with a little bottle. “Laudanum, my lady,” she said. Watched by Lucy she carefully measured a small dose and put it into Lucy’s morning chocolate. It was the way Lucy took the drug, when she took it at all, which wasn’t often. The rich, strong chocolate was about the only thing that would mask the sweet, sickly taste. However this was a small dose, and could easily be assimilated.
Lucy sat up and allowed Curtis to put some pillows behind her back. While she drank her chocolate, she thought. How could she have slept all night? What a foolish thing to do. However, with Greene outside the door it would have been unlikely that she could have got clean away. She realised she must go through with this, refuse to marry Sir Geoffrey right up to the altar if necessary. There had to be witnesses, and they would hear it too. She quailed at the thought of a messy court case, but it would be better than meekly accepting a marriage to a brutal bully.
Curtis left the room for a moment, returning with the wedding dress Lucy had chosen for her marriage to Sir Geoffrey. It was green, with a costly lace overdress, but it was hateful to Lucy. “I won’t wear that,” she said firmly.
“Lady Royston has ordered it,” Curtis said. “She said if you don’t appear in it, she will dismiss me and send you upstairs with her own maid.”
“It’s not her place to dismiss you,” Lucy said. “You’re not her maid.” But it was all of a piece, she supposed.
She finished her drink and set it aside. When she looked at the thin bread and butter laid out on a plate beside it, she felt a little nauseous, and decided against it. She watched Curtis laying out her clothes for the day while she relaxed and let the headache float away. Perhaps, she thought, it might be easier to get away during the day. Greene wouldn’t be so vigilant and then she could avoid the scene at the altar, which she was already dreading.
Feeling better, she threw the sheets aside and got out of bed. But it seemed to her as though she left part of herself behind. The whole world seemed to take a step sideways, and as well as feeling sleepy, a kind of dreamy lassitude drifted into her.
She was glad to sit at the dressing table, and held on to its edge for support. Greene dressed her hair in an elaborate
style, her dark curls coiling around her head, a few curls allowed to escape and droop forward in a seemingly artless way which took quite some time and the application of pomade to achieve. Greene pinned some pearl and agate clasps into her hair, and then cracked her face in a smile. Lucy gazed at herself. She thought she looked pretty, just as she always had.
She got up and allowed Greene to array her in her finery. This took some time, from the elaborately clocked stockings, to the gorgeous lace overdress. An elaborate gown, but one that could just be termed day wear. No train and a modest décolletage proclaimed it as such.
Lucy still thought she looked pretty, and casually wondered why she was dressing up like this in the daytime. She remembered her Presentation, and the expensive, ostentatious gown she had worn then. She had only worn it once.
Sitting down again she felt more secure. Her fine satin slippers were laced, and then she was ready. Curtis gave her a fan, reticule and clasped pearls about her neck. Lucy looked at the vision in the long mirror and smiled. It smiled back, slight dimples showing at one side of her mouth. Philip would be proud when he saw her.
There was something wrong, but she couldn’t remember what it was now, so she came to the happy conclusion that it couldn’t have been important and went downstairs to the drawing room.
Her mother and Aunt Honoria waited for her there, both arrayed in their best. Lady Royston looked her up and down. “You look lovely,” she said. “Are you feeling better for your night’s sleep?”
“Yes, Mama.”
“All ready?”
“Yes, Mama.”
“The carriage will be here in about twenty minutes. I’m glad you decided to see reason, child. I’m sure you’ll be very happy.”
Aunt Honoria looked at Lucy in a puzzled way. Lucy beamed at her and her aunt seemed to recoil under the blazing smile. “My headache has gone now,” she explained carefully.
Miss Simonson frowned and shook her head, opening her mouth to speak, but then the doorbell rang.
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